Tuesday, September 27, 2005

How deep is your love?


As you loyal readers may know, I am venturing back to the scary world of undergraduate education to get a degree in English. Yes, yes, I know, I probably don't need it considering I am already, like, the bestest writer ever. However, I decided the coursework and exploration of an undergrad would be more exciting than the elitist research of a graduate degree in English. I have been proven wrong a few times. For instance, the course I am subjecting myself to is mostly taken by "Rec and Leisure" majors. Really, there is such a program. At first, I thought it was a joke, like what undeclareds would say, but no, Brock does indeed offer a college degree in camp counseling. That's where we stand out from Harvard. No R&L there! Ha, Ivy league!
Back to the course, I find the prof to be super; she is animated, interesting, and most importantly, open to students' ideas. When in lecture, somebody contributes with a thought or interpretation that she was not perhaps anticipating, she is excited and open to the possibility. The TA, however, dismisses it with the flick of her wrist. She also pointed out the poem we were reading today from the 1950's had a reference to the sedative drug Halcion because the word halcyon was used once in the poem. Okay, Halcion was approved in 1982, this poem was written in 1956 and also there is the whole difference in spelling thing. But that's okay, because even the pros make that mistake (read this link for a pretty funny article). And the TA pointed out a character flaw I didn't realize I had until today: I am too deep. She should maybe read my very deep blog on America's Next Top Model. I mean, that's practically Freudian and shit. So what to do when your TA is not the brightest bulb in the box? Keep yo mouth SHUT. That's right, cause she does the grading, so...yup.
My hopes are that the upper level courses are a little more interesting and the students have a little more to contribute otherwise I might pursue my studies independently. Because I am just that fuckin' deep.

Friday, September 23, 2005

Who will be America's Next Surviving Apprentice, Martha Edition?

Yeah Reality Trash TV season is back!!!
First issue:
America's Next Top Model Cycle 5

Who are your favorite picks? I like
Kim. I think she is very cute and she seems like a borderline normal gal. But we will see as the season goes on. Do you know what I find to be most horrific, though? On the America's Next Top Model website, they have a store! And probably their worst product is the America's Next Top Model scrunchie hat. Its a scrunchie and a hat and a scrunchie and a hat! I mean, how many times have I had a baseball hat, but not a scrunchie or a scrunchie and not a baseball hat. All that is missing is the fake ponytail hanging out the back of it to look like I have super long hair, but only when I have the hat on. When I take it off, instant haircut! Whammo!





















There are now two options of the Apprentice:
The first is money grabbing, power hungry, capitalist pig Donald Trump and the other is money grabbing, materialistic, power hungry capitalist pig Martha Stewart. Pick your poison. Wouldn't it be kind of nauseating to have to be a business person where all you care about is wrangling, seducing people into buying a bunch of shit they don't need. Or making them feel like they need to repaint their living rooms because that shade of white isn't "spring" enough?! But the figureheads, celebrities aren't the worst of it. Its the contestants. The "I almost cried because I was in the same room as Martha Stewart/Donald Trump/Tyra people." Why? What have these people done that make you want to cry? Is it Donald's hair? Martha's ill-fitting suits? Tyra's forehead? Last time I checked, these people haven't saved a baby from a burning building or gave CPR to your grandma who has bad halitosis. They've made a shitload of money. And have purchased huge estates for themselves. To live ALONE in. And I am sure they help grease politicians hands to enlarge the gap between the wealthy and the poor. Okay, I would probably cry too, but for different reasons.

How can I talk? I am watching the stupid things. I am routing for certain people while the prof is talking to the tv saying, "Nu-uhh. I can't believe this guy! He's got to go. You're fired. Say it Don, say it." I'm sure if the Don knew he had such an eminent organic chemist agreeing with his actions, he would be ecstatic. But until Don buys the periodic table, element by element, they'll just have to have this virtual relationship.

I would like to leave you with a quote from the politics test I took the other day that put me in the same category as a hickey on Ghandi:

It's wrong when environmental regulation puts people out of work, like when limits on logging make it harder for loggers to log logs.

Could you just imagine how I responded to that? If it was open-ended, I would have over-used the word log. For instance, Is there a log of loggers willing to log logs then lug logs then snog on the log blog? loglogloglogloglogloglog? loglog.

Loglog for now- the KMAD

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

How to quit grad school

I figured a shot of my creamy white bosom (emphasis on the left breast) would be a good pic to start off a seriouser (I deem that a word now) blog than the uje (how would you spell "us" as in the first syllable of usually?). My boobies do look pretty good. I should show this much skin all the time.

Madness just wrote a thought-provoking yet still witty and cute entry on "performance art" and how we can be performers in our lives. This made me think about the recent end to my best performance ever: KMAD, the enthralled biologist, the good girl. How many of our decisions are made because we are expected to make them, to do things a certain way? Okay, some background...

I was a good girl in high school and took the honors/AP courses because I wanted to get into a good college. I got into a college and became a Biology major because I wanted to be a medical doctor. Why? Because that is the sort of profession smart people have and I was always told I am smart. I graduated college and worked in a research lab. At this point, I no longer wanted to be an MD, I wanted to be a college professor. Why? Again, its a smart thing, but now we were talking a more esoteric smarty profession. (A joke amongst PhDs is that MDs are just plumbers where the PhDs are the engineers. Sorry Esther, if you're a plumber, I'm sure you have a nice crack!)

So I worked in research labs for a few years while the prof was getting his PhD and such. I hated it. I thought at first there were other reasons (the boss, the research topic, etc). Then I came to grad school. No fucking around anymore. This was it. I was on the path to the exalted glorified occupations of the mind. You could practically hear the choir singing and see the Jesus-like glow. I had the BEST boss (say anything about Jeff Stuart and I WILL cut you), the BEST co-workers, and the research was incredibly interesting. If you like that kind of thing. And guess what...

I still hated it. But I played like I loved it. I should have received an Oscar/Emmy/Grammy (the Grammy for performance art and for the goody bag). But those things are so rigged anyway.

One day, the prof turned to me and said, "You know you don't have to do this if you don't want to."
Aside from ending the sentence in a preposition, I saw the light and the curtain closed on my performance right then and there. I dropped grad school at the end of that semester and started doing what I like. I write all the time, I learn about crazy environmentally, socially-conscious things to do, and I love life.

The consequences to my delicious delirium?
The gossip mill. Oh the rumors, the implications, the whispers, the talk.
I will list them numerically because I like numbers. Listing things in numbers make me look smart.
1. I quit grad school because I wasn't smart enough to do it.
2. I quit grad school because I had a nervous breakdown.
3. I quit grad school because I have always been crazy!
4. I quit grad school because I am lazy.
5. I quit grad school because the prof told me too.

As there are only 5 pieces of gossip I can recall at the moment, it looks a little silly as a list. But trust me, for a while, I was "Oh, that girl who quit grad school?!"

Also, my fam still sees me as a vagabond kind of person with no occupation. Apparently, the health food store doesn't count because...I don't know. I'm not in an office? Is that the reason? Also, being a student is another way of procrastinating.

Everyone preaches "live in the present" and "do what makes you happy" but the problem is when you stop performing for them and actually do what they directed you to do (i.e. find your personal happiness), you are lost and they are unsettled.

So...what the fuck is that all about? Live and let live. Love and let love.

Warning: Bleeding Heart Liberal

You are a

Social Liberal
(88% permissive)

and an...

Economic Liberal
(6% permissive)

You are best described as a:

Socialist




Link: The Politics Test on OkCupid Free Online Dating

The Internet was invented by Insomniacs


Yes It is 2:20 am and no I am not asleep. I wasn't last night, why should I be tonight? Luckily there are many amusing things to find on the internet. May I direct your attention to the hysterical video here. I cannot stop laughing thinking about it. That's about all the interesting I have found so far, and I think I can maybe sleep in a second, so I'm gonna go do that. I hope I dream about Paul Gross. I think he has dumped me as his dream girlfriend because I haven't dreamt about him in a while. I used to have these dreams every night about Paul Gross (star of Slings and Arrows, most Canadians know him as the "mounty") and he is SO sexy in a rumpled genius with amazing bone structure way. Especially the character in Slings and Arrows, he's brilliant with a touch of madness and ladies, nothing is hotter than that! Back to my dreams, for about 2 weeks, I had a dream about Paul every night, but it wasn't the same one! It was literally like I lived two lives: one was this reality with the sexy genius prof and the other was dream reality with sexy genius Paul Gross as Geoffry from Slings and Arrows. I confessed to the prof because I felt like I was cheating or something. He looked a little hurt when I told him, actually. Then he watched the show with me and said, "Yeah, I could see how you would fall for him." So, Paul and I had been on a few dates (in dream realty) and we made out something fierce, but never got to the deed. Maybe I didn't put out and that's why he stopped coming to my dreams. No, that couldn't be it. Me? Not put out? Puh-lease.

Okay, I love you Paul, but I am sad for you because I just googled you and on the biggest website for you, www.paulgross.org, one of the questions in the FAQ is:

Where Have I Seen Him Before?

WOW! Is that not TOO FUNNY?!

I must be deliriourly tired at this point bc I can't stop laughing at this even though I love the man (or at least the persona he plays in my dreams). I am going to bed now. This is over, Paul.

Sunday, September 18, 2005

A few of my favorite things...

This entry by Maggie gave me such warm fuzzies, I had to flatter her and imitate:

1. When the prof wears fleece jackets
2. Vivacious children
3. Spanish accents
4. New sheets on my bed
5. Belly laughing
6. The smell of snow
7. When Mango head butts me
8. E-mails from long lost friends
9. Lavender
10. Full breakfasts on Sundays (eggs, bacon, toast, tea, and maybe some chocolate)

Now, things I don't care for:
1. Styrofoam (not so much an eco thing as a sensory thing; I can't stand the feel or sound of it)
2. Fake Maple syrup
3. Wal Mart
4. Fake baking
5. Inferiority complexes
6. Olives and Peas
7. Folding laundry/Putting clothes away
8. Aggressive drivers (I am a reformed one, though)
9. Hypocrites (best word for people who do yoga but don't embody the ideals OR people who go to church all the time but still don't act like Christians etc. etc. Would that be hypocrites? I guess so. What a cliche for the list, but still, I hates what I hates)
10. People who can't be silly

OK, this website REALLY burns me. Warning: DO NOT LOOK IF YOU ARE NOT READY TO BE SERIOUSLY PISSED. These people are evidence of humanity declining, not the people they are trying to kill or whatever they are trying to do to them. AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

What can we do to these people to make them understand? Hey, wouldn't they hate it if we were to love them unconditionally!!! Especially us liberals and gay-friendly people. Yeah, that's what we should do.

So those are my lists of ten things I like and ten things I don't like. They are not necessarily my top ten in either category or they may be...I didn't really put a lot of thought into it, so, yeah. Tell me some of your fave/not so fave things in the comments. However, I suggest doing it the other way (don't like first, then likes) because you end on warm fuzzies rather than, AHHHH Why can't more people giggle? Enough for now, I've got eggs, toast, sausage, and tea waiting for me.

Friday, September 16, 2005

A little morsel

The prof is convinced Mango can talk. I think he needs a vacation. Or medication.

Thursday, September 15, 2005

Allison Thompson Mills

This post is completely devoted to the divine creature that walks the Earth under the moniker Allison Thompson Mills. Actually, it is officially still Allison Thompson because she hasn't changed her name yet, but it will be soon, so technically I'm just ahead of my time. I'm not saying that I was told to write a blog devoted to her as a bribe for her to read my blog, but...who can say no to that bitch?

Ali has been my best friend since I moved in across the street from her during the summer before 7th grade, August of 1991 to be exact. She was wearing a white Esprit T-shirt with a rockin' headband and some snarl-teeth (pre-braces). I was wearing probably some hideously matchy-matchy JC Penny's outfit cuz that's how I styled it that year. Her mom, Sandrat, asked me how old I was in a non-creepy way and after my response said, "Oh Ali is the same age as you. You both will be starting middle school this fall." Or something like that. Along the same lines. And I remember thinking - oh really? This girl looks like I could maybe baby-sit her. But I didn't say anything because I was desperate to be loved (and still am, I'm writing this thing, aren't I?). Plus she was already friends with two boys in the neighborhood and her brother was (and still is, ladies) way hot. And their backyard went onto the river, so...Actually, Ali was cute, like a chipmunk and I loved Esprit. We hung out that summer in her basement, in my basement, in Sumit's unbuilt house, Hackettstown pool, Hackettstown mall (sporting a KMart!) and a local bait shop/gun store that also sold candy! A kid's wet dream, fo' real.

After years of boys, Kudos, video games, drunken all nighters, heart breaks, weddings, dreams, and being painfully separated, she is still as cute as a chipmunk. And my bestest friend ever.

Here's why:

  1. When you are mad at her, she gets mad at you. Then you are both feeling the same thing.
  2. When you make her boyfriend who you just met pull over the car with 3 false alarms and 2 productive "vomit stops", she tells the story and laughs at you over and over and over again. And over again.
  3. When you go to visit her, you two go to the Holocaust Museum in DC, because hey, that sounds fun?! And when you are both done hysterically sobbing, you go to the Museum Cafe and share a large bowl of the best matzo ball soup outside of someone's Bubbies' kitchen (and a knish for good measure).
  4. She is only your friend because your mom buys Kudos and hers doesn't. This way you get a friend and you don't get fat because she ate all your Kudos.
  5. You can laugh at each other's man-mistakes (guys you dated/fucked and REALLY wish you didn't).
  6. When you go to visit her, she is elated at your suggestion to drink sour apple martinis, lay on the blow-up mattress she laid out for you in the living room, and watch made-for-TV movies on Lifetime about teenage prostitution, pregnancy, abuse, bullies, blah, blah, blah
  7. When you devote an EXTREMELY long blog to the wonderfulness that is her, she still probably won't read it. The bottom line is you couldn't have survived all the shit life throws you without her, still love her til it hurts and hope you die first because you can't imagine how you could survive the rest of life's bullshits without her.

So, to LiLi, allie-oop, Al, Ali, Alley Kat, Allison Kate, Mrs. Mills, Prince A-li, Alleeeson, Alissssssson, and every other variation upon your name we have used at some point in the 14 years we have been BFF...

Are you fuckin' happy now?

Sunday, September 11, 2005

Chronic Fatigue this!

The Kmad is down! I wish I had an explanation for my recent exhaustion after lifting up my head, but sorr-ay, I don't. Nutritionist Jen says no more sugar for me, so I am sans sucre as of yesterday. I can still have fruit though, so I won't completely rip my own head off. I also need to take it easy, so the marathon I planned to run tomorrow and the triathlon on Thursday will be held off until further notice. However, I might be able to still build that house with my bare hands on Saturday...we'll see. (All those out there who don't know me well, please note the sarcasm.) Basically, the kmad is not a very active one and is catching up on all her blogs and TV.

Due to this fatigue-thingy, I pulled a classic first year and slept through my first day of class. Luckily on WebCT, the syllabus said it was introduction so hopefully it was just a "hey, you're in English. We're gonna read stuff in here." I did attend the prof's class to giggle with him about it later. He is so cute when he's up there lecturing and stuff. As a scientist, his choice of words are often slightly inaccurate in the meaning he is trying to convey. My favorite "for instance" is this gem:

"The amount of times you visit me outside of office hours is in direct proportion to your grade. It has a negative slope. So, be, you know, discreet about coming to see me outside of office hours."

What he meant: "Don't even fuckin' think about visiting me outside of office hours. If you do, I will hate you forever and ever. Oh yeah, and you'll get a point off your final average or something like that."

What the students probably heard: "Waahwahh woon wahh slope. Secretly come visit me outside of office hours."

Other news in my life: Larn has left the building!!! I am so sad and feel like I have lost a very important part of me, like my big toe. She has gone back to Waterloo, but she will return soon, maybe for Grape and Wine festival (a festival where we celebrate the fact that we can squeeze very bad to mediocre wine from this environment, but there's a lot of alcohol involved).

Therefore it has been a non-stop Larnfest for me the past few days including a sleepover Thursday night. This brings me to direct my readers to the great career opportunity with SM Candy OU. As I was watching this infomercial at 3 am in a chemically altered state, shall we say, I thought their website www.smcandyou.com (spelling out SMC and you) meant they sold candy and I didn't get where all the candy was. I thought maybe in order to get the candy, you had to buy the really fuggo items they sold. Like, it was the candy packaging or something. This is a picture of the cowboy sculpture (would you call that a sculpture?) that is an excellent example of their fine craftsmanship.

Well, that about wraps it up for me. So make some noise and write comments.


Wednesday, September 07, 2005

5 whole days and I am one calm woman

I had to take a little hiatus because otherwise each and every post from here on out would have been the repressed activist in me raging and ranting and all that does is fuel the fire. So I like to try to keep it positive and I only know how to do that through humor.

I have taken this time also to read all of the back posts on my favorite blogs and I was super moved by all the moms out there. I want a baby in my belly, like now. Too bad the prof has a different idea. It is a constant source of discussion for us and I think both sides have valid points, but the bottom line is both of us need to be 100% on board. so that topic will be put on the shelf until further ado. I am sure if anything changes, it will be documented right here.

My day was filled with little chuckles throughout that make you happy to be alive. I am now a first year university student again starting my degree in English from the beginning. As this is Frosh week, I am surrounded by all the very young freshman and am excited by the prospect to revisit this time in my life with the maturity and stability I have now. (Note: Freshman year was a recovery period for the kmad. Much better this time around. much, much better.) I have been told VERY interesting stories about the ploys these young women use to get laid. First off are the club gear for a 9 am class. I showed up in a T-shirt that I am pretty sure was purchased before these peeps ever went to preschool and my boy-cut jeans from J Crew. Fun Pat asked where my belly chain was. Apparently I party fouled it with no belly chain.

Second thing these gals do is to go to Isaac's, the undergraduate bar/club on campus, and walk around with condoms hanging out of their pockets. Okay, yay for safe sex and I am far from being a prude, but what part of this is honesty? Do these women really just want a fuck and they don't care from whom? Or is it part of some challenge, a "look how cool I am" show off between women who are not sure of themselves yet?

Maybe I wasn't cool enough, but I was never able to have a hook up without feeling like the used american pie in the morning. But I did it more than I should because...I was really drunk and like to french kiss when I'm drunk, I thought that hooking up would make a guy fall madly in love with me, and maybe 10% of the time I was just randy and ready to go.


My other chuckles came in watching an unintentionally funny movie When Good Ghouls Go Bad. The best line ever in it is when the grandfather, who turns into a zombie, is trying to explain to his grandson how zombies exist (these quotes are an approximation):

Grandpa: Do you remember the weird kid down the street who would crush the fireflies and smear the glowing goo all over his face like war paint? And it would still glow? Do you know what caused that?
Boy: A chemical reaction...with the air or something
Grandpa: No, no, no, no. (Dramatic pause) It was magic!

I think magic is a good explanation for a lot of things and I am so glad this movie taught me that.


Once I upload my pictures from the past few days, be prepared for some intense photo posts. But first comes the uploading. Until then, stay fine, my bitches. And wish me well for my first day of school on Thursday.

Saturday, September 03, 2005

Dear Mr. Bush

I have held off on reading about the devastation in New Orleans and Southern US for when I could handle it. After reading the details, all I can say is how much longer are we going to be so cruel and heartless towards our fellow human beings? Mr. Bush, you knew this hurricane was coming, we all did. We knew it was going to be a big-ass storm and devastate the coastal regions. We also know that New Orleans is a city filled with people in less fortunate situations than us (ask Susy, my spicy Cuban who worked as a nurse in an ER there). They don't have anything. Let me repeat, Mr. Bush, they have NOTHING. Do you know what it feels like to check your bank account and not have anything in there and have no one else to turn to for money? When the government is telling you to evacuate the city and it’s the end of the month and you are like, evacuate? With what money? Can you lend me $50 for bus fare? No? I didn't think so. You, Mr. Bush, you have no grasp of what it means to be a president. You thought it would be all fun and games, like Daddy. But here's the truth, shit happens and as president you need to do your damndest to PREVENT it. Prevent, man, not go to war afterwards. I don't give a shit who you bomb afterwards, it doesn't change the fact that tragedy has struck many times while you are at the helm. I was mindfucked when you were elected the first time. I thought, hunh, you have good friends because there was no way you would have become prez if you were a nobody. Then the second term...WTF? What happened, people?

Okay, back to New Orleans. My questions for you, Bushy-poo:
1. Why didn't you help the people in the area evacuate to safety before the hurricane hit? We had warning; did you not get notified of this?
2. Why the fuck did it take you so long to respond? Too busy on your ranch?
3. What are you going to do now? Who will you blame for this tragedy? Which country will we bomb now? I don't see a logical next step, but I am sure you and your war birds have one.
4. Can we impeach a president for stupidity, immaturity, and lack of effectiveness? Cause I want to.

If my rants have only confused you all out there, then I am sorry. I have Bush flare ups where I want to burn my US passport and stay here in the Great White North forever. Here is a lovely quote of optimism from George W. (weetarded, thanks Joffre!) Bush:

THE PRESIDENT: We've got a lot of rebuilding to do. First, we're going to save lives and stabilize the situation. And then we're going to help these communities rebuild. The good news is -- and it's hard for some to see it now -- that out of this chaos is going to come a fantastic Gulf Coast, like it was before. Out of the rubbles of Trent Lott's house -- he's lost his entire house -- there's going to be a fantastic house. And I'm looking forward to sitting on the porch. (Laughter.)

I'm so happy for Trent Lott and his fantastic house.

My final note on a rather serious entry is this:

Citizens of New Orleans and other victims of Hurricane Katrina:
You are in my thoughts and my heart and I am sending out as much love and compassion and positive energy as I can. I am going through my home right now and finding anything anyone might be able to use and donating my paycheck for the week to the Red Cross. I can't imagine what this time in your lives must feel like, but I know it must be unfathomable pain. It may feel like many people have abandoned you; it’s not true. There a millions of people looking out for you and donating what they can. I cry with you and am angry with you and will fight with you for your lives to return to normal.

The only courage that matters is the kind that gets you from one moment to the next.

- Mignon McLaughlin, "The Second Neurotic's Notebook"

Friday, September 02, 2005

I'm on crack when I sleep

I have the craziest and therefore funniest dreams EVER. My dream last night was I found out that I wasn't really part of the Aber family, that my real family was super rich and I was secretly married to this old Indian guy with really black hair (kinda like this guy).

So, I had to tell my real husband that I had to be married to the old guy because he was there first, apparently. The prof was none too happy about that and so we (my current hubs, old Indian guy, and my new family) went to a convent (??) and I talked with a nun about my situation. She told me to follow my heart and do what I thought was right, so I walked out of the treehouse where I was having my consultation with the nun and went to old Indian guy and hugged him. I was telling him that I wanted to stay with the prof because it is him I truly love. However, the prof saw me hug the old guy and thought I had chosen him and he drove off in his tricked out mini van.


I sprinted after him and since I am super fast, he stopped his mini van and I got in. I told him I never wanted to be married to an old Indian guy; I only wanted to be married to him and I love him forever and ever. Then we drove off in the sunset in his mini van. And I wish only the best for old Indian guy.

Thursday, September 01, 2005

Lorn of the Rings

Variations on the name Lauren:
Subcategory Larn-
  1. Larngina (replace the Larn with va and you know how to pronounce it)
  2. Larngitis
  3. Larn Barn
Subcategory Lorn-
  1. Lorn of the Rings
  2. Horny Lorny
  3. Oh My Lorn
  4. Fruit of my Lorns

A tribute to Larn who I don't want to go away to school again because my life will be an empty, hollow shell of what it used to be. You can walk and you can talk, so...you can go to Brock! Stay, baby. You know you want to.